Maybe we'll be ok
by tidbit22
Summary: The funeral of his youngest brother's best friends have Darry Curtis wondering if they'll all be ok. If he'll be ok, because... how could he be? One-shot


**This Story is inspired by a one-shot I read from Tim's point of view. I feel awful as I don't know the name of the story or the author. If anybody thinks they know what I'm talking about please message me the names. **

**This is also partly inspired by HappierThanMost. Their work is amazing so you should definitely check it out! I absolutely love their stories, and it got me back into writing. Then I wrote this because I couldn't sleep. Enjoy!**

He climbs in the truck and I'm suddenly rethinking bringing him. It's cold and rainy, and he looks like the slightest breeze could blow him over.

Then I remember the conversation of last night.

"_Pony… I don't know if you ought to come tomorrow." Both him and Soda stare at me, dumbfounded. I quickly scramble my thoughts before either of them explodes on me. "It's just… you're sick… and I…"_

_I pause when I notice tears running down his face. I expected an argument. Shouts, angry glares, and hateful words. Instead, he sits back down on the couch with a defeated look, tears rolling down his face. "Please Darry… Please."_

_I thought he would've wanted to avoid another funeral, but then I remember he watched Johnny and Dallas die. I think he needs something else to remember instead of Johnny sagging into a hospital bed, and Dallas crumpling under a street light. I'm about to tell him no… I so desperately want to tell him no. To spare him from another day of agony… But he's already lost so much, and I can't take this away from him. _

He's squished in between me and Sodapop, but he doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't seem to mind anything. Normally, he'd mention the wind and the rain… Give us some poetic explanation. But now he just sits here, acting numb. I know he's breaking inside.

It's raining harder by the time we get there, and I guess it's fitting. There are more people than I thought, and then I remember the fire. The families are gathered around, solemnly looking at the caskets of the boys who gave their lives for their kids.

He's shaking as the priest talks, already cold form the rain. I knew it wasn't a good idea to bring him. He's still sick and this weather isn't helping matters. I take off my sports coat and gently drape it around his shoulders. "Here, Pony."

"Thanks." His voice isn't even a whisper, and I'm surprised I hear him. His shaking subsides, but only a little. I know most of it is because of the sobs wracking his body. He's saying on his feet, but Soda throws an arm around him before I can do anything. It's the only holding him upright.

Greasers don't cry. This sentence doesn't make sense to me anymore… not after I've seen the toughest guys I know reduced to nothing. All of them are crying… the sobs coming from my younger siblings echoing in my ears.

Johnny's in the ground first. I can't believe that that quiet, black haired kid was in the box in front of me. The boy who managed to be happy and smiling when around the gang, even though he came from such a terrible home environment. The boy who crashed on our couch some nights. Who I would go out and get the nights he tried to sleep in the lot. The boy who listened to everyone's problems, even though he had it rough too. The boy everyone needed and loved is gone… just like mom and dad.

Dallas is next, they lower him in right next to Johnny. Right next to his kid. I caught all those half-smiles Dallas would give him. I saw all the affectionate head shakes as Johnny walked away. I watched as he stopped by at our house late at night, making sure Johnny was asleep. Johnny was Dally's responsibility… his brother… his kid.

I catch Tim Shepards eye from across the cemetery. He's standing by a tree, an unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth. I can imagine Dallas next to him, propping his elbow up on Tim's shoulder. Imagine them fighting right there because they've got no one left to fight. He gives me a nod, and I nod back. It doesn't take a conversation to tell how he's feeling, Dallas was his buddy too. I check on my brothers before glancing back at the tree, Tim's gone and I can hear his car driving down the road.

Then it's over. There's nothing left to do but go home. I'm thankful it's not like mom and dad's funeral and we don't have to throw a wake. I can't handle the condolences and gifts of food again. My brothers definitely can't.

I notice the families have turned to me. To him. He's the third hero… the first one to run into that burning church. I don't need to look at him to know he can't do this, but I do anyway. He's still sobbing and leaning into Soda. I turn back to the parents. "I realize you would like to thank my brother, but I don't think he can handle it right now." _His best friend is in the ground, and he's wishing he's right there beside him. _

The mother closest to me nods. "Were you very close to the two other boys?"

"Yes m'am." My voice is strained. "Johnny is his…"

I stop and ignore the glances of sympathy I get. Johnny was. Johnny will never be "is" again. I swallow hard. "Johnny was his best friend."

I hear the mumbles of "how awful" and "poor boy." They all leave us alone after that. No one else coming up to talk to the five destroyed boys. It takes me a minute to compose myself after that, it was harder than I thought.

"We should tell you 'bout the time Dally nearly got Darry arrested." Two-bit's voice has me turning back around to face the boys.

Steve almost smiles. "Your dad was so mad."

I realize they've been talking to Ponyboy while I was with the though it was only a minute conversation, they kept him distracted. Helped him avoid the survivors guilt. And I'm grateful, grateful that even though they're hurting and broken... they're trying to help my kid brother hold on to whatever pieces he has left.

None of us can take anymore. We can't stand here and stare at this hole in the ground thinking about how our friends… our brothers aren't coming home with us.

Two-bit and Steve agree to meet back at our house, after a stop for a few packs of beer. For Steve and Two-bit, maybe even Soda, tonight will be easier after a few bottles. They walk with us back to the cars, then we go our separate ways.

Ponyboy's squished in again, still not minding and not saying anything. The drive is quiet, too much like the last time. It hasn't even been a year and yet we have to go through this again. He has to go through this again.

The house seems big… too big. Especially now there's only gonna five of us lounging around. As the screen slams behind us I think about how Dallas will never again come through it, cussin' up a storm. How Johnny will never again carefully try to close it, and jump when it still slams.

Ponyboy sits down on the couch, followed by me and Soda. This time it's not Soda he clings to, but me. As he leans into me, I notice he's still crying. Not openly sobbing, but he's got silent tears rolling down his cheeks. I pull him in tighter, trying to hold those broken pieces together.

The gang comes in and he doesn't even move. Another time, he would've pulled away from I to save face. I guess there's no point anymore, everyone's already crying. I'm crying too. And it's not because of the two people we just buried, as bad as that sounds. I'm used to being the strong one, in these types of things. I'm crying because of the boy leaning into me. The boy who, at the age of fourteen, lost both parents and two of his best friends. I'm wondering how he could ever be ok again.

Steve is the last one to pop the cap of his beer. He tips it up. "Johnny and Dallas."

Two-bit and Soda follow suit, their voices heavy. An uneasy silence settles over the room, no one knows what to say. Thankfully, Steve breaks it. "He would always listen to me bitch about my dad… Even though he had it ten times worse at home."

"Remember how happy he was when you let him drive your car?" Two-bit almost smiles. "He had just gotten his license."

They're talking about Johnny, so I look to see how Ponyboy's doing. I give a sad smile when I notice he's asleep. I move him so his head is in my lap, his legs across Soda's. I know he's drained from all the crying, not to mention he's sick. I'm pushing his hair back out of his face. It's not greased, so it falls over his forehead naturally. I find myself missing the auburn colour.

"He used to say man all the time." "Yeah… it drove me crazy at first…" They're talking about Dally now. I'm not really listening. All of my attention is on the broken, sleeping boy in my arms.

I want to keep him here forever. Want him to be able to stay in the safety of the living room. Of my arms. I want to banish the stares he's gonna get at school. I want to erase the editorials in the paper, praising his heroics. I want more than anything to switch places with everyone we've buried in the last year. Just to see him smile.

I wake up to the screen door slamming. I turn on the lights and, check the clock and see that it's only 11. Two-bit and Steve left two hours ago, leaving empty bottles around the living room. We spent the night sharing stories, first about Johnny and Dallas but then we even talked about mom and dad. Ponyboy stayed asleep for the rest of the night, I ended up carrying him to bed.

Seeing as I might have to go outside, I pull on a pair of jeans and then throw on my OSU sweater. I stumble into the kitchen, noticing the light's on. I know I turned it off before I went to bed. Then I notice the new piece of paper taped to the fridge, and recognize Ponyboy's handwriting. _Don't panic, Gone to the lot. _

I want to explode. It's the middle of the night, what the hell is he thinking? What if I didn't hear him leave and something happens? Soda and I wouldn't even know where he was until tomorrow morning. I'm about to go out there and drag him back in when I remember…

_I fell asleep in the lot. I was talking to Johnny and we both dropped off. _

_Johnny and I are gonna go toss the football around at the lot_

_Darry, I need the marshmallows. Johnny and I built a fire in the lot. _

_I think we're gonna hang out at the lot for a bit after school. _

That lot is their spot. Sure we all go down there to play football or have the occasional fight, but Ponyboy and Johnny hung out there. They would sit there together for hours doing god knows what. It was their spot.

I'm out the door and on the street, a lot calmer then was a minute ago. The rain's stopped leaving a cool prick to the air. I'm at the corner of the lot when I see him clearly. He's sitting on the ripped out backseat of a car, it's been there for years. His head's tipped back looking at the stars, face illuminated by the small fire he's got going in front go him.

I sit down next to him. My voice is gentle. "Hey kiddo."

I notice he's crying as he turns to look at me. "Hey."

He shivers a little bit and I can't stop myself from thinking that he's dumb for not bringing a sweater. I don't say anything, but instead wrap my arm around his shoulders. "What're we looking at?"

"The stars…" He stops and swallows hard. "That night.. we we were looking at the stars."

I know he's taking about the night I hit him. The night Johnny killed Bob. The night that started this whole shit show. We don't say anything, but I notice his breathing pick up. His tears are speeding up too. Suddenly he leans forward, head in his hands. "How did you do it Dar? How did you deal with not having dad?"

My throat tightens, but I know why he's asking. I told dad everything, he was my go to listened to all my problems and triumphs. I was able to talk to him about almost anything. He was my best friend. I know that's what Johnny was to Pony. They were always together, despite the age difference. Both of them were sensitive, and could have the same view of things. The two of them would enjoy reading a book or watching a movie together. I know they would talk to each other. Long conversations they'd have with no one else.

I try to think about it. How did I deal with not having dad? I don't want to give him the answer because I don't think it'll help him, but I take a deep breath. "There were a lot of late nights. I cried when the two of you were asleep. I would turn to tell him something and he wouldn't be there."

I take another deep breath.

"I felt completely lost without him… Then you got sick one night. It was the first time any of us got sick without mom. Soda was out late with Steve and Two-bit… so I took care of you. You were throwing up, so we were camped out in the bathroom. I went to grab a towel and caught myself in the mirror. Dad's reflection was starring back at me. It took me a while, but now I see him everywhere. Like in your smart mouthed comments and quick wit, and Soda's humour and overall energy."

He rubs his face. "I remember that night. By the time you put me to bed I was half-asleep and thought you were dad."

The last bit he adds quietly, but I still hear. I knew that though. When I told him goodnight, he had said goodnight dad. It made me so happy yet so sad all at once. I looked back up at the stars and smiled. "You'll find Johnny soon. Might be in the stars or a sunset. It could be a quiet night reading or a night at the movies. Either way, you'll find him."

I catch him smile a little. It's the first smile of his I've seen since the morning of the rumble. I also catch his yawn and shake my head fondly as he puts his head on my shoulder. "C'mon little buddy. Let's go home."

We walk back together, shaking at the coolness of the air. When we get inside and go to his room I almost laugh. Sodapop is sprawled out over the entire thing, taking advantage of the empty bed. I look at Ponyboy, who seems a little uncomfortable with the idea of pushing him over.

"You can come sleep with me." I'm apprehensive to tell him this. We haven't slept together since he was a little kid scared of the monsters under his bed. I see his look of shock and quickly add on to my statement. "Only if you want to."

He looks as awkward as I do. "Sure."

I get into my Pj's and hop into bed. Ponyboy's already in his, so he jumps in right after me. He's near the edge of the bed and I know he's a little uncomfortable. I inch a little closer to him and throw an arm over his shoulders. "Night little brother. Love you."

"Love you too Darry." I stay awake until I hear his soft breathing. I think back to tonights conversation and how our relationship has changed over the past week. Maybe we'll all be ok.


End file.
